


Sharp Dressed Man

by feathers_and_cigarettes



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bingo, Clint Barton Bingo, Clint Barton Sings, Dancing, Deaf Clint Barton, Hawkeye - Freeform, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), The Animals appreciation, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, timelines what timelines, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathers_and_cigarettes/pseuds/feathers_and_cigarettes
Summary: Bucky learns new things about modern dancing and about Clint Barton's hidden talents





	Sharp Dressed Man

**Author's Note:**

> For Clint Barton Bingo ([@clintbartonbingo](http://clintbartonbingo.tumblr.com)) Square filled: Dancing
> 
> The song Clint is singing is "House of the Rising Sun" by The Animals
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [@feathers-and-cigarettes](http://feathers-and-cigarettes.tumblr.com)

Dancing was a whole lot better in the 1940s.  

The music was better, the clothes were better, the drinks were better – everything about dancing in 2019 was watered down and Bucky Barnes hated every second of it.  

Fighting back the urge to roll his eyes as a tall man in a poorly fitted suit stepped on his partner’s toes for the third time, Bucky grimaced and took another sip of his poor excuse for a gin and tonic. The waltz was apparently a lost art form.  

He set his drink down on the bar and glanced around the ballroom, his gaze lingering on the stage where the band played a cover of a song that was vaguely familiar but escaped his grasp. Supposedly his backup was somewhere in the room, but either it was an agent he hadn’t met yet or they were choosing to remain hidden, which really was no help.  

Stevie was going to catch so much hell for assigning him this mission.  

A young dark-haired woman in a midnight blue gown paused to give him a brief once over as she approached the bar. She wasn’t the first to size him up; Natalia had dressed him to the nines with a custom tailored suit and, after pulling his hair back into a neat bun, had given him a slow nod of approval and a low whistle. Even Barton had raised an interested eyebrow, telling him to ease back on the scowling and he might actually get people interested in talking to him. 

Not that Bucky was really hoping anyone would want to talk to him. He could do recon without being social, right? 

He turned toward the stage, feigning interest as a new singer came out to take over for the previous one, and nodded as the bartender topped off his drink. More gin this time, thank god. He swallowed a large mouthful and continued to resolutely ignore Blue Gown Lady.  

The band started up again, a loud, intense beat of a song from the 60s that Bucky immediately recognized as one of Nat’s favourites.  

Hips swaying with the beat of the music, the singer flashed a wicked grin under the brim of the fedora pulled low over his eyes. His voice was powerful, low and rough and full of passion as he sang the opening lines, boasting an impressive range.  

The mission flew out of Bucky’s mind, something that hadn’t happened since he’d been blindsided by Steve years ago. He stared at the singer, wishing the sunglasses and hat weren’t covering his face and enraptured by the slight wrinkle of the man’s nose as he crooned out the lyrics in a sultry voice.  

The singer was definitely into the song, his whole body moving with the music as he grinned at the guitarist and wrapped his fingers lightly around the microphone stand. Turning back to his audience, he faced Bucky, grin widening and giving him a little wave of his fingers.  

Bucky swallowed uncomfortably, unable to look away. His heart pounded in his chest almost to the beat of the drums. 

“There is a house in New Orleans they call The Rising Sun, and it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy, and God, I know I’m one,” the singer belted out the last line as the band came to a dramatic finish. The cocky grin was still spread across his face as he took an elaborate bow and tossed his fedora into the crowd.  

The room erupted into thunderous applause – blue gown lady ended up with the fedora, Bucky noted with some amusement – and the singer turned to thank the band before hopping lightly off the stage to make way for the next performer.  

Running a hand through his messy blond hair, the singer sauntered over to where Bucky nervously gulped at his gin and tonic. The cocky – and familiar? – grin was still firmly in place as he approached the bar and pushed the sunglasses up onto his head.  

“Better shut your mouth,  _James_ , you’ll start attracting flies, bro.” 

Bucky’s mouth snapped shut as his mind scrambled to find logical explanations for drooling over  _Clint Fucking Barton_ of all people. Fucking Hawkeye and his wiseass smirk and stupid jokes and absolutely  _glorious_ singing voice. 

God  _dammit._  

“What the fuck are you doing here, Barton?” Bucky hissed, leaning in close as Barton fiddled with something on his hearing aid. 

“Mission, remember?” Barton replied. “I’m your back up.” 

“What the fuck was that then? Shouldn’t you  _not_ want everyone to be watching you?” 

Barton shrugged and tugged at Bucky’s jacket, pulling him gently onto the dance floor. “Gotta blend, Buck. I noticed you enjoyed my performance – Animals fan?” 

Bucky’s growl morphed into a strangled whine as Barton slid an arm around his waist and pulled him close. “And what the fuck are you doing  _now_?” he asked through gritted teeth, an edge to his voice he usually reserved for threatening baddies and occasionally Steve when he drank the last beer.  

This close, Bucky could smell Barton’s aftershave and see the faint scars along his throat and across the bridge of his nose. How had he not noticed those before? He found himself swaying along to the music, stepping into Barton’s space as the other man stepped back, falling unconsciously into a rhythm.  

Barton curled his free hand into the back of Bucky’s neck and Bucky just managed to suppress a shiver.  

“Everyone else here is dancing and everyone’s been watching the hottest guy here anyway. I might as well continue my show and have what everyone else wants,” Barton murmured, breath ghosting across Bucky’s cheek as he spoke.  

“Yeah, you gave everyone a fuckin’ show all – “ Bucky paused, his brain finally catching up to his ears. “Wait, hottest guy here?” Him? The Bucky Barnes of old, sure, with his swagger and confidence, but former Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes was nothing to write home about; just too-long hair and perpetual ‘murder face,’ as Sam called it. 

Barton laughed, the sound as rich as his singing had been. “Yeah, dumbass, you. You clean up real nice; not that you’re not normally hot, but I’ll have to thank Nat later.” 

Bucky let his hands drop to Barton’s hips, pulling him close as the music changed to something low and sensual. He stared up into the amused blue eyes, an almost-forgotten smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth.  

“You clean up pretty good yourself, pal,” he said, hips rolling with the beat of the music as he took the lead back from Barton. “Didn’t know you could actually sing from all that caterwauling you do in the showers after missions.” 

“I like to keep people guessing.” 

“Startin’ to see that, yeah,” Bucky huffed a laugh, giving into the temptation to press himself fully into Barton. “Ain’t sure about this current dancin’ shit though. Doesn’t seem like too much skill is involved.” 

Barton waggled his eyebrows and the cocky grin returned in full force. His fingers danced along the skin of Bucky’s neck and his other hand dipped dangerously low at the waistband of Bucky’s pants. “That’s because twenty-first century dancing is more a prelude to fucking than actual exercise. Think of it like a test drive before you decide to take it home.” 

Biting his lip as Barton leaned in to rest his forehead against his, Bucky felt his pulse quicken and heat start to pool low in his abdomen.  

“Your kind of dancing is great, takes plenty of skill so you don’t step on your partner’s toes and shit, but this?” Barton dipped his head to mouth at the bolt of Bucky’s jaw. “This is as intimate as you can get with your clothes still on. Nothing but you, your partner, and the music. No steps, no rules; just follow what your body tells you.” 

Bucky bit back an undignified groan as Barton’s lips sent fire through his veins. He ground his hips against Barton’s, rocking and swaying to the music as the tempo pulsed through him like a second heartbeat. Moving one hand from Barton’s hip to the back of his head, Bucky kissed him, slowly at first then with much more enthusiasm as Barton responded eagerly. 

Okay.  

Maybe modern dancing wasn’t so terrible after all. 


End file.
